


The Tale of Boromir and Gondwyn

by Missfoodie2shoes



Series: Hobbit Babies [10]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Babysitting, Gen, Horseback Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-19 09:01:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12407295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missfoodie2shoes/pseuds/Missfoodie2shoes
Summary: Young Boromir finds an abandoned baby and takes her under his wing. How long will be be able to care for her?





	The Tale of Boromir and Gondwyn

**Author's Note:**

> Year: 2994  
> Age: Boromir-16

Boromir rode his horse, Rocaran, through the mountains of Gondor. At the young age of sixteen, he was already being groomed by his father, Denethor, to assume the mantle of stewardship over Gondor at the time of his passing.

Boromir’s training included sword fighting, horse riding, and strategic planning. He also acted as a spokesman for his father. His father was a very busy man, and Boromir’s job was to listen to people and help with their needs and problems and keep his father informed as to how the people of his land were doing.

Gondor was a large land and there were many small villages throughout it. Every region had problems of its own. There was a lot to keep straight, and a lot at stake; Boromir took his duties very seriously.

Boromir looked forward to the day that he could be Steward of Gondor. He still had much to learn, but he wanted to help his people. He cared about all of them, and knowing he couldn’t always help everyone, made him feel like a failure. A part of him hated himself because he couldn’t always solve all the troubles and problems there were. He wanted to be a good provider for his people, but he knew there would be many who were disappointed due to his inadequacies.

Boromir had ridden alone, to the outskirts of Gondor, in order to see as much of the land as possible. He had been gone for several months and was looking forward to returning home soon.

A cold night had crept up on Boromir and Rocaran by the time they reached the outskirts of the small mountain village of Calenhad. He decided to sleep outside the village and make his entrance in the morning, knowing it would cause great commotion. He sent Rocaran off to find grass while he set up his camp and started a small fire among the rocks. He had eaten his fill of the food he’d been given at the last village, and was lying down wrapped tightly in a blanket when he heard noises that drew his attention.

Sitting up, he saw figures moving out of the village walls and over to the rocks around the corner. A man with a small bundle was marching to the rocks where he set it down, opened the covers, and removed them. A woman ran up behind him. She was crying and trying to get to the bundle on the rock. As the man held her back, she began to scream and throw herself against him. The man started dragging her over the rocks back to the village walls, but the woman continued to struggle. The man stopped, pulled her up and slapped her in the face; the woman fell to the ground, still crying and the man dragged her back to the village and out of Boromir’s sight.

Boromir was shocked and sickened by this. He knew such things happened, but he had never witnessed a man hitting a woman before. Slowly he made his way over to the rock to see what had been left behind. He was halfway there when he heard the screams of an infant. Quickening his pace, he ran to the rock and found a baby girl, naked, exposed to the harsh mountain night elements. Boromir’s heart pounded as he gently picked up the baby who could be no more than a couple of days old. He didn’t know what to do. It was obvious that the father didn’t want this child, but her mother did. He couldn’t return her to them. He couldn’t bring her back to the village, what would he do with her?

The baby screamed and flailed her arms, bringing Boromir back to the situation at hand. She was freezing, hungry, and scared. He walked back to his camp and sat down with the baby in his arms. He opened his bags and found a shirt, which he wrapped the baby in. He continued to look through the bags, hoping to find something for her to eat. Finally he found a skin that a villager had given him that was filled with milk. He took the corner of his blanket and dipped it in the milk, then he put it in the girl’s mouth. She sucked on it, drinking in the milk. He continued this for some time until she was full.

During this time, the girl had been warmed in her wrap and by the fire. Her tiny hands brushed against Boromir’s and she gazed into his eyes. He felt a strange force moving through him as he looked at her. He would take her with him, keep her safe. He was not yet the Steward of Gondor, but he could act as her guardian. He cradled her in his arms and rocked her gently until she fell asleep. Slowly, sleep overcame Boromir as well.

Morning came and the bright sun in the sky woke Boromir. He felt lucky, he’d heard stories that babies kept their mothers up all night, but those must have been untrue. The baby woke up and was very hungry, so he gave her more milk. He rummaged through his bags to see what other clothes he had for the baby. He found another shirt and three handkerchiefs. He took one and wrapped the baby in it as a sort of makeshift nappy. Then he re-wrapped her in the shirt.

He decided the girl needed a name. He wasn’t very good at these sorts of things, so he tried to think of things about her, like what she looked like or where he had found her. He decided on Gondwyn because he had found her on a rock, also, her eyes were the same gray colour as the stones.

Boromir packed up his camp, settled all his packs on Rocaran and managed to get atop him with one arm. He held onto Gondwyn tightly and rode away carefully, trying not to jar her.

He rode through the day, stopping a few times to feed Gondwyn and change her nappy, which he became very good at in a short time. By early evening, he had reached the village of Minrimmon. He needed supplies and made his way into it in search of them. At the town gate, he inquired about where to obtain milk and assistance in washing Gondwyn’s clothes. Gondwyn could have used a washing herself. He knew it must look very strange for a young man to be traveling alone with a baby, what with the way people talk, but he was desperate.

The gatekeeper gave him directions to a washerwoman who could accommodate him. He tracked her down and she helped him without asking any questions. She was a kind woman, who took them into her house. She bathed Gondwyn and wrapped her in fresh clothes. Then she washed the dirty clothes, and sent them on their way without letting Boromir pay her.

Boromir, with Gondwyn in arms, made his way to the village market, which was closing up for the evening. He purchased some milk for the baby and also a large chicken that would make a good meal, which he arranged to have sent to the washerwoman’s house.

He had several kind offers to stay with people for the night, but he didn’t want to spend more time with them than he had to. He wanted to maintain a low profile, for so far, nobody knew whose son he was.

For a second night in a row, Boromir set up his camp among the rocks. He settled in for a long night with Gondwyn. She was fussier than the previous night. Boromir walked around with her, spoke soothing words to her, fed her, changed her nappy, but nothing worked. He continued to walk around with her and decided, since no one else was around, to sing to her, maybe that would work. Boromir tried to remember the songs his mother had used to sing to him. He was sure he got some of them wrong, and he made up lines when he couldn’t remember the original, but it seemed to work. Gondwyn calmed down and fell asleep. Carefully, Boromir walked back to his blanket and wrapped up tightly before falling asleep himself.

Night was well under way when Boromir was jolted awake by Gondwyn’s screams. Stirring the fire to see better, he fed her and changed her nappy. Her screams continued; she could not be consoled. She’ll attract every warg in Gondor with all this noise, he thought to himself. He wasn’t too worried, but he’d heard rumours of dangerous things coming into Gondor, from Mordor. The rumours had kept his father preoccupied lately.

He picked Gondwyn up again and rocked her. If only his mother could be here, she would have known what to do. Desperately, he put the tip of his pinky finger in her mouth. She began to suck on it, her little fingers grabbing on to his hand at the same time. He couldn’t believe how small they were. Each hand had five perfect little fingers on them. She was a beautiful baby. She had a fine covering of blonde hair on her head, rosy cheeks, and a tiny pink mouth that was capable of making a lot of noise.

Gondwyn chewed contentedly on Boromir’s finger while he sang to her again. He couldn’t figure out what was wrong, maybe she just wasn’t tired. But he sure was. She finally fell back to sleep, and so did Boromir, but this continued throughout the night, several more times.

By the time the morning came, Boromir was exhausted, Gondwyn was wide-awake, and they had another long day ahead of them. They rode through the day without any problems and repeated his search for clean clothing and milk for Gondwyn in the village of Erelas that evening.

Camping among the rocks once again, the pair spent a more restful night together. The next morning, while he fed Gondwyn, Boromir thought about what he should do with her. He wanted more than anything to keep her, to take her home and raise her as his daughter, but his father would never allow that. He had much more training to do for the future. He thought about bringing her back and giving her to a family nearby to raise. That way he could see her whenever he wanted. But he felt that would be too sad. He decided the best choice was to find a family farther away so that he wouldn’t be tempted to go see her.

Slowly he picked up camp and started off for another day of riding. By midday, he reached the village of Nardol. He left Rocaran outside while he made his way into the town, with Gondwyn.

In the town centre, Boromir looked around, to see if any of the faces were kind enough to leave his precious bundle with. He saw the faces of two kind-looking people, a man and a woman. They looked to be twice his age or so; they’d be perfect people to leave Gondwyn with if they’d have her. He made his way over to them to get a better look. He stood by a food stall, watching them when they approached him.

“What an adorable child,” the woman exclaimed, her eyes twinkling as she patted Gondwyn’s head. She looked at Boromir and smiled. The man leaned in for a look at the baby and smiled his approval.

Boromir engaged them in a friendly conversation and knew these were the ones to leave Gondwyn to. They had two sons and lived on the outskirts of the village. The woman had always wanted a daughter, but no more children had come to them.

Boromir opened up to them, explained who he was and how he had found Gondwyn. He told them of how he wanted to keep her, but it would never be allowed. He told them they would be the perfect parents for her. It was a lot to ask, but would they be willing to take Gondwyn as their own? The man and woman looked with pity at Boromir, for they could see the sadness in his eyes. But they were kind people, who had much love in their hearts. This child needed a home and they could give it to her. The woman held out her arms and Boromir placed Gondwyn in them.

He took the wrappings and nappies out of the bag he held. Then he took out the wineskin of milk and placed them in the man’s hands. He also emptied his satchel of all the gold coins he had with him and gave them to the couple.

Boromir leaned down and looked at Gondwyn’s face. He gently caressed her cheek and kissed her forehead. “Goodbye Gondwyn, you be a good girl,” he whispered in her ear.

“Sometimes she wakes up in the middle of the night and she just wants you to hold her. Sometimes she likes it when you sing to her. She’s real sweet and she’ll be no trouble to you. Thank you...” Boromir’s voice broke and with that he turned and walked away. He couldn’t bring himself to look over his shoulder, but if he had, he would have seen Gondwyn in the arms of her loving parents as they walked her to her new home.

When he reached the gates, Boromir ran to Rocaran and buried his face in the horse’s mane. Tears flowed freely from his eyes and pain threatened to overwhelm him. He let himself cry for a few minutes before composing himself and mounting Rocaran and riding off for home.

Boromir had a couple of days to travel alone again, before he returned to Minas Tirith. But though he informed his father about all he had done over the past several months, he couldn’t bring himself to tell him about Gondwyn, it still hurt too much.

Over the years, the pain faded, but he never forgot her sweet face and how good it felt to take care of her. It inspired him during the hard times when he had to care for the people of Gondor, and others he helped out during his lifetime.


End file.
